


The Obtuse Admirer

by LadyGaGalion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGaGalion/pseuds/LadyGaGalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's been receiving ambiguous notes, and he isn't pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Obtuse Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> Written once upon a time for the Lip-locked fest at HD Seasons on LJ.

_Don't you hate all this excitement about Valentine's Day?_

Draco crumpled the note into a little ball and dropped it onto his plate of half-eaten eggs. It had to be a joke; the bird that had delivered it left no doubt in Draco's mind. northern hawk owls weren't rare, but this one was a beautiful specimen: slender, with a long tail, perfect colouring – including thin, elegant black lines framing its face – and a haughty demeanor to boot. It had landed on the table in front of Draco and refused to leave until he'd fed it a scrap of bacon. 

Not many people could afford such a striking owl, which meant that whoever it belonged to was relatively well off. And such people, Draco knew, weren't interested in former Death Eaters. The Malfoy name had little to bring to any relationship. Which in turn meant that the person who had sent the owl was poking fun at Draco's single-and-unwanted status. How considerate. 

The note inevitably prompted Draco to start thinking about his lack of good prospects, romantic and otherwise, and his already foul mood plummeted further. He cast a glance at Potter and found him seated between Granger and Finnegan, staring absently at his own plate and playing with his food. No doubt _he_ was enjoying the Valentine's Day buzz, considering his newly-single status and the Gryffindor propensity to being a sap. 

With a huff of disgust, Draco picked up his rucksack and left the Great Hall.

xoxo

_Good game today._

Draco sighed and reached into his pocket for an owl treat. The bloody bird was lucky Draco had just been spending some time with his own owl, or he wouldn't have had anything to feed it. He was outside, studying in the shade of a giant tree by the lake. 

The bird swallowed its reward, raised its spotted wings, and flew away. Draco watched it for a moment before looking back down at the note in his hands. He reread the scrawled message and frowned. _Great game my arse,_ he thought. Potter had managed to steal the Snitch from just beyond the reach of Draco's fingers. Had Draco been just a fraction of a second faster, or his arm a centimetre longer, Slytherin would have won. 

Draco didn't appreciate being made fun of. Not at all. He'd never been treated in such a fashion before the war. His mates had grown a little bolder after his father had failed the Dark Lord, but still no one had dared to rub Draco's failures in his face. He'd have hexed their balls off. Now, such behaviour would only reinforce the belief that he was evil and belonged in a cell in Azkaban, and that was something he could not afford. 

He crumpled the note and threw it in the direction of the lake. The paper ball didn't even make it halfway to the water.

xoxo

_Do you have a date to Hogsmeade this weekend? It seems like everyone's going to be paired up, since it's Valentine's Day and all._

"No, I haven't got a _date_ ," Draco said in a mocking tone. 

The hawk owl gave an ugly screech. The table was loaded with food, but the owl stood steadfastly by Draco's empty plate in anticipation of its reward. A noble bird. 

Draco decided he wouldn't feed it anymore. Maybe if he stopped giving it treats, it would refuse to deliver to him. 

"Go away." He made a waving motion with his hand to shoo the owl away. It bit his middle finger. "Ow, fuck!" 

Draco clamped down on the finger with his other hand and glared at the owl. As he reached angrily for his rucksack with the intention of sending a nasty reply, the bird took flight. 

"That's right, you go right back to where you came from," Draco muttered. The owl gave an indignant squawk and flew away. Draco watched, eyes growing wide, eyes it landed on Potter's shoulder. It adjusted its wings and hooted, as if to complain about Draco's manner. Then it nipped Potter's ear affectionately. Potter stroked the owl's wing and produced a couple of treats, which it gulped down in rapid succession.

Potter watched the bird as it lifted off, and then his eyes darted towards Draco, who realised too late that his mouth was hanging open. They held each other's gaze for a moment, until Potter gave a soft, wistful smile and Draco had no choice but to look away, trying his best to appear calm and indifferent. 

So the notes had been from Potter. That didn't make any sense at all. Potter wasn't a bully, so unless he'd gained a sudden appreciation for the fine art of poking at people's wounds, it could only mean that…

It could only mean that Potter felt sorry for him. Draco forced out a breath and kicked the leg of the table. Being pitied was far worse than being fodder for someone's sick amusement.

xoxo

_Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?_

Draco could not explain the fluttering in his belly as he sat in Potions, reading and rereading the note.

There was no owl this time. Potter had folded the note into an aeroplane and charmed it to fly over to its recipient. Draco had tried to ignore the thing, but it had poked him relentlessly in the arm until he snatched it out of the air with a sigh.

_No._

Draco refolded the airplane and sent it on its way. Not a minute later, it was back. 

_Why not?_

Clearly, Potter wasn't used to being rejected. Draco racked his brains in search of some reason other than the fact that he didn't want to be pitied, but he found nothing. He felt his face grow hot. 

_Why do you?_

It was beyond Draco's comprehension why he didn't just reply saying that he disliked Potter. 

A few minutes passed, but the airplane didn't come back, even though Potter could easily have sent it whilst Professor Slughorn had his back turned to them. Draco felt as if his weekly package of sweets from home hadn't arrived. 

He was discreetly bottling a vial of Persuasion Potion when he felt something poking his arm. He slipped the phial in his pocket before unfolding the paper airplane. 

_I want to go with someone who won't look at me with stars in their eyes before they've even had a chance to get to know me._

Draco gave a snorted laugh. That wasn't quite the answer he'd expected. 

_What about Blaise?_

Potter unfolded the note and responded while Slughorn praised Granger for having brewed the perfect batch of Persuasion Potion. "A perfect, sunflower yellow!"

_Been there, done that._

_Yeah, right,_ Draco thought. Blaise was straight as an Ollivander wand. 

_Liar._

Potter hurriedly scribbled his reply and sent the note back, avoiding Draco's gaze. 

_If you say so. Will you go with me?_

Draco's heart was hammering in his chest. But before he could decide how he would respond, Slughorn stopped next to his desk and looked down at the contents of his cauldron. 

"Yes, that's acceptable," Slughorn said, even though the potion was as vibrant a yellow as Granger's. He wrote something on his clipboard and returned to the front of the classroom. "All right, everyone, class is dismissed. Have a good weekend."

Draco glanced at Potter and saw that he was dawdling, probably waiting to get a chance to talk. A wave of anxiety washed over Draco at the thought of talking to Potter after all that note-passing business. The only answer his mind entertained was _no_ – yet he didn't think he could bring himself to say it. So he picked up his things and left the classroom before Potter could approach him.

xoxo

Draco's eyes followed Blaise's fork to his mouth. He couldn't help but wonder if what Potter had said was true. The thought that it could be, and that Blaise was eating with such insouciance after having kept that secret from him, made Draco grind his teeth. He could take it no more.

"Did you sleep with Potter?"

At first, Blaise looked at him as if he wasn't sure he'd heard something. Then he asked, "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Did you?"

Blaise placed his fork on the empty dessert plate and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Had that mouth been on Potter? Something inside Draco curled at the idea.

"Since when have you taken such a keen interest in my sex life?" Blaise asked. 

"Since Potter told me he's had you," Draco ground out through his teeth.

"Of course he hasn’t." The disgust in Blaise's tone put Draco momentarily at ease. Then Blaise added, "Not like that. Though I might've put that smart mouth of his to good use."

Draco nearly choked on his treacle tart. " _What_?"

Blaise gave a nonchalant shrug. "We were serving detention together."

"Did—" Draco leaned forward. "Did Potter say anything?"

Blaise's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "I'm sure he said something at some point…" he said slowly.

"No, I mean, did he tell you why he wanted to – well, you know."

"He didn't," Blaise said. "And I wasn't very interested in his reasons. Honestly, Draco, I thought you'd be a little more surprised about what happened and less interested in what _Potter said_." 

Draco ignored him and pressed on. "Did he send you notes?"

Blaise's face scrunched up as if he'd been asked to collect Bubotuber puss. "No, he didn't send me notes. I'm not a fourth-year girl."

Feeling somewhat better, Draco sat back and took a deep breath. 

"Has he been sending _you_ notes?" Blaise gave him a suspicious look. 

Draco opened his mouth to say no, but he glanced at the doors and saw Potter walk into the Great Hall with Granger and Weasley. Potter gave him a weak smile, and he forgot what the question had been. 

Blaise smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."

Draco shot him a look. In a low voice, he said, "He wants me to go to Hogsmeade with him." 

"And you're considering it."

"Don't be absurd," said Draco. " I just can't understand why he's suddenly interested in me. We hate each other." 

Draco was less convinced about that last part than he sounded. He used to hate Potter, but then they'd saved each other's lives and now he was no longer sure what he felt. The urge to do _something_ to Potter was as strong as ever, but now that he thought about it, an angry shag would probably be more satisfying than smashing his face in. 

"I reckon he wants a challenge," said Blaise. 

Draco snorted. "You certainly didn't give him one." 

Blaise didn't look at all offended as he stood up. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to meet someone in a few minutes."

Draco's stomach dropped. "Who?"

"Really, Draco – do I inquire about every detail of your life?" Blaise smirked again. He didn't wait for Draco's response. "Don't worry, it's not Potter."

"I'm not worried," Draco protested, but Blaise was already on his way.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Potter was poking idly at his dinner with a fork. He must have sensed Draco's gaze on him, because he glanced up from his plate. Even behind his glasses, Potter's eyes were intense; they sent a pleasant shiver down Draco's spine and made him look away uncomfortably. That Gryffindor boldness was infuriating.

xoxo

"Fancy finding you here."

Draco didn't turn towards the source of the voice, just as he hadn't when he'd heard the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. He was leaning against the railing in the Astronomy Tower, staring out at the vast expanse of sky in front of him. It glittered with the light of a billion stars that would continue to shine no matter what happened in the tower or anywhere else on earth. 

"I like to torture myself," Draco replied. "What's your excuse?"

Potter stepped up next to him. "The same, I guess."

They stood together in silence for a few minutes. Draco couldn't help but notice how close their hands were on the railing. Potter's were almost as pale as his own, but stronger-looking. The silver starlight made the veins stand out more than usual. Or maybe Draco had just noticed them for the first time. He swallowed the urge to do something stupid, like move his own hand closer to Potter's so that their fingers would touch. But apparently Potter didn't, because the moment Draco looked away, he felt a fingertip brushing his skin. 

Something fluttered in Draco's belly. He swallowed hard, but otherwise pretended to be unmoved. 

"Will you go with me tomorrow?" Potter asked. 

Draco felt those green eyes watching him; he stared down at the blackness past the railing.

Another minute passed, and then Potter sighed and turned away. 

"They'll talk about us, you know," Draco said when Potter approached the stairs. "Going to Hogsmeade with me isn't a good way to stay out of the papers."

Draco had always accused Potter of seeking fame and glory, but he knew that wasn't true. 

"I suppose I just don't care." Potter's voice was flat. "Do you?"

Draco thought for a moment. If the two of them were seen together, everyone would talk. Being worthy of Potter's attention might improve people's opinions of him, but more than likely they'd say he was using Potter in a pathetic attempt to climb back up the social ladder. 

"I don't know," Draco said. His hand still tingled where Potter had touched it. 

There was silence, then, "Well, I'll be out there tomorrow. Hopefully I'll see you there."

Draco head footsteps going down the stairs. He was alone again.

xoxo

The next morning, Draco met Potter just as the last of the students were heading out towards Hogsmeade. They walked in uncomfortable silence, a safe distance behind Weasley and Granger, who had apparently lingered with Potter in case Draco didn't show up. 

Potter tried to break the ice by admiring the weather – it was a clear day, warm enough for comfort, yet not to melt the blanket of snow covering the ground – but receiving only a mumbled agreement from Draco, he changed the subject to Quidditch. That went better, and before they knew it they were standing in front of the Three Broomsticks.

"Just ignore them," Potter said as his two friends disappeared behind the door. He placed his hand gently on the small of Draco's back to usher him forward.

At first, Draco was confused. He'd thought Potter had been referring to Weasley and Granger, but when he and Potter entered the pub and everyone turned to stare at them, he understood.

People gasped and whispered to each other as they wound their way to a relatively secluded table by the wall. Draco had been hoping for a seat in the corner, but they'd arrived too late. The place was packed. 

"Two Butterbeers," Potter told the waitress, without asking Draco what he wanted. But Draco _had_ wanted a Butterbeer, so he couldn't really be upset. He sent Potter a glare, and settled at that. 

Draco's head reeled as they waited for their drinks to arrive. Part of him was happy to be here, while another part was telling him this was a huge mistake. How could he and Potter ever get along, when they could barely hold a civilised conversation? Did it even matter? Draco had never considered conversation a prerequisite to physical pleasures – and neither did Potter, considering his one-off with Blaise.

Potter's hand was lying palm-up on his thigh. Before he could decide against it, Draco followed his impulse and laced their fingers together. Thankfully, Potter didn't do anything sappy – like, God forbid, _smile_ – but he gave Draco's hand a squeeze to let him know the gesture was welcome. 

"This doesn't change the fact that you're a git," Potter said. 

Draco held back a smile. "Nor does it change the fact that you're a scrawny, four-eyed idiot who doesn't know how to comb his hair."

The brief exchange was interrupted by the arrival of their Butterbeers. They continued to hold hands as they drank in silence. It was, Draco thought, a silent agreement to skip the small talk and later see if they'd have more luck with other things.

By the time their tankards were empty, they were sitting much closer, thighs and arms pressed together. Potter leaned in, his breath hot on Draco's ear. "You want to wait until later, or would you rather get a head start?"

Draco's breath caught in his throat. He turned to look at Potter, and suddenly they were kissing. Potter had closed the short distance between them without waiting for a response. He tasted sweet, and his mouth was as warm and smooth as the Butterbeer. Draco moaned and grabbed a fistful of Potter's hair. It was a rough, desperate kiss that took much more energy than Draco had ever been willing to pour into the act before.

Potter nipped Draco's lip as he pulled back. "I knew that mouth of yours must be good for something other than spitting insults."

But before Draco could think up some scathing retort about Potter being good for nothing but saving people, Potter kissed him again, and his wand hand began its journey up Draco's thigh, eager to prove that it was capable of doing all kinds of heroic deeds.

The End.


End file.
